The Children's Trauma
The sight of Noreen's death and her burning in the fire—witnessed firsthand by the children—was haunting. They had seen her skin melting away, and these horrific images were etched into their minds, impossible to erase. No matter how old they grew, these memories would remain locked in their hearts and brains. Whenever they tried to shake off these thoughts, the scenes would flash before their eyes like a vivid, terrifying film.
Tahir's daughters were so traumatized that they would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, crying out, "Pathani Khala is here!" A local mischievous boy named Hamid decided to exploit this fear. Whenever his parents sent him to fetch groceries or household items, Hamid would force the neighborhood children to do his chores. If they refused, he would threaten them, saying, "I will summon Pathani Khala's spirit!" Terrified, the children would run to the shop for him. His parents remained unaware, thinking Hamid was doing the work himself.
Because Tahir's daughters were very young, Hamid bullied them easily. When Mehreen finally told Tahir about Hamid's threats, Tahir sat them down and explained: "When a person passes away, angels take their soul; spirits do not return to this world. We are Muslims, and we fear no one but Allah. If you ever feel afraid, recite Ayat-ul-Kursi. Nothing in the heavens or on earth can harm us then—even jinns run away because Allah takes responsibility for our protection. Next time Hamid threatens you, tell him, 'Go ahead and call her, we are Muslims and we have Ayat-ul-Kursi.' Once he sees you aren't afraid, he will stop."
Unforeseen Tragedies
Tahir had not yet fully succeeded in pulling his daughters out of this trauma when a series of sudden calamities pushed him into even deeper difficulties. Due to constant hard work and a grueling routine, Tahir had been suffering from a high fever (104°F) for several days. Despite medication, the fever didn't break. His doctor ordered blood tests, and Tahir waited anxiously for the results at a nearby laboratory. He was so weak that he couldn't even go to work.
When the report finally came, it felt like the life had been drained out of everyone. His in-laws' house was filled with mourning and cries. Tahir was the only soul his children had; their mother had already passed away when they were very young. Although they had maternal grandparents and uncles, those relatives weren't even willing to take responsibility for a single day. If something happened to Tahir, who would care for them? Tahir wasn't afraid of death for himself; he was consumed by the grief of what would happen to his helpless, homeless children.
The diagnosis was devastating: Blood Cancer.
Due to his prolonged absence, Tahir lost his job. His mother-in-law informed his sister-in-law, and the next day, his brother Wajid and nephew Nusrat arrived. They took him to Liaquat National Hospital for re-testing, hoping the first report was a mistake. They wept the whole way, praying for a miracle.
Tahir had left his daughters at their grandmother's house, but he was worried. His fear came true: his mother-in-law, fearing the long-term responsibility, refused to keep the girls overnight. She dropped them back at Tahir's empty house and told 11-year-old Noreen, "Lock the door from inside and don't open it until your father calls out." Noreen was terrified. She locked the door but couldn't sleep; all the sisters stayed awake all night, trembling and waiting for their father.
The next morning, Tahir insisted on leaving the hospital. "My daughters are alone, hungry, and thirsty. I cannot stay here," he told his brother. Despite his brother's pleas that he was too ill to leave, Tahir wouldn't listen. His heart was with his girls. He took a bus and reached home. When he knocked and called out, Noreen—who had spent the night huddled with her sisters—rushed to open the door. The girls clung to him, sobbing about their terrifying night.
The doctors said the cancer was at its last stage; Tahir supposedly had only 40 days left. He made breakfast for his daughters and decided not to send them to school. He wanted to spend every remaining second with them, teaching them about life's ups and downs. He accepted Allah's will, believing there must be a hidden wisdom he couldn't see.
He gently tried to prepare them: "You know I am sick, right? As Muslims, we believe everyone must return to Allah one day, just like your mother did. My time is also fixed."
The girls burst into tears. "Please don't leave us alone! We are scared at night. Every little sound makes us think someone is breaking in." Little Mehreen sobbed, "I want to stay with Abu. I won't stop crying. Please, Abu, don't leave us for the hospital again. Take us with you; we will sit outside quietly and won't make a sound." Heartbroken, Tahir pulled his daughters close and held them tight.